


range of motion

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya strains himself and Kitayama makes it better.





	range of motion

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“Are you going to lay there all day?” Kitayama chides as he regards Fujigaya with an unimpressed look. “Our afternoon meeting has been cancelled. The others have already left.”

“Maybe,” Fujigaya answers facetiously, putting on a big show of stretching on the couch. Unfortunately, the gesture backfires and he instantly cringes at the pain searing through his legs, specifically his thighs, and he can’t keep it off his face.

“Hey.” Instantly Kitayama kneels next to him, giving him a stern leader face. “Are you hurt? You need to tell me these things, you know.”

“I’m not,” Fujigaya mumbles stubbornly. “I just overworked my legs yesterday, I think. They’re protesting life today.”

“Stupid,” Kitayama says affectionately. “Be more responsible with your workouts.”

Fujigaya frowns. “I don’t need to hear that from you.”

Sighing, Kitayama stands up and starts to walk away. “Well? Come on then.”

“Huh?” Fujigaya asks, turning to face him.

“Taisuke, I’ve played soccer my whole life. I know what to do for sore legs. Come with me and don’t argue.”

Fujigaya scoffs, but he sits up and catches Kitayama’s hard expression melting into concern as he winces again. “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Fujigaya rushes to say. “I was just lying there for awhile and my muscles got stiff.”

To his credit, Kitayama doesn’t respond, or even help Fujigaya up. Fujigaya wouldn’t have minded the latter, he realizes as he gets to his feet and gingerly follows Kitayama out the door. Kitayama had driven today, but he takes them to Fujigaya’s place and Fujigaya is fine with this, even if he’ll have to hitch a ride back to work to get his car.

Naturally Kitayama makes a face upon entering Fujigaya’s apartment, which is furnished with dark leather furniture and dim, romantic lighting. “You actually bring girls here?”

Fujigaya snorts. “Of course. Though by the time they get here, they don’t care much about the scenery.”

Kicking off his shoes, Kitayama rolls his eyes and gives Fujigaya another one of those disapproving looks. “You didn’t hurt yourself from _that_ kind of workout, did you?”

“Give me some credit please,” Fujigaya replies flatly. “I don’t do that much work in bed.”

“Things I don’t need to know,” Kitayama mutters. “Speaking of beds, we should do this on yours. You may want to cover the silk slut sheets so the lotion doesn’t stain them.”

“Silk slut sheets,” Fujigaya grumbles on the way down the hall, but he grabs an old blanket from the linen closet because he really does have black silk sheets messily pulled up on his bed.

The blanket lands just as haphazardly, followed by his person as Fujigaya flops onto his stomach and moans happily. He’s done with walking for awhile. Though he hears a ‘tsk’ sound from behind him and rolls his eyes. “Now what?”

“Taisuke, I am not undressing you,” comes Kitayama’s exasperated voice, and somehow it sounds much deeper now. “You could at least put on some shorts or something.”

“I’m not getting up again,” Fujigaya declares, reaching down to unfasten his pants and kick them off his legs. Except that each kick sends another jolt of pain to his thighs, and he must be whining pretty convincingly because the rest of the garment is pulled off without comment.

He’s left in his boxers, which doesn’t concern him at all. Kitayama’s seen worse. The mattress dips as Kitayama kneels on it, squirts something onto his hands, and sounds completely put-out as he asks, “Okay, where does it hurt?”

“Thighs,” Fujigaya answers. “Specifically the backs of them.”

“Ah, the hamstrings,” Kitayama says. “Got it. Now shut up and relax.”

Fujigaya narrows his eyes at being told to shut up in his own bed, but then Kitayama’s hands are on him and his eyes roll back into his head instead. Kitayama hadn’t been kidding – he knows what he’s doing, chasing the tension of Fujigaya’s muscles that have been throbbing all day, and he doesn’t bother trying to conceal the pleased noise that bubbles up in his lungs.

“Better?” Kitayama asks needlessly, a hint of amusement to his voice.

“Much, thank you,” Fujigaya speaks into his pillow. He can feel the muscles loosen under Kitayama’s touch and it feels better than any professional massage he’s ever gotten.

He expects Kitayama to stop once the tension has subsided, though the soreness remains, but Kitayama’s fingers continue to expertly rub the backs of his thighs. Fujigaya certainly isn’t going to stop him, his arms sliding up over his head to hug his pillow and completely relax. He wouldn’t mind if Kitayama massaged the rest of his body while he’s at it, but he doesn’t want to press his luck. Sometimes he doesn’t know where they stand, or if they’re even friends outside of work.

A low rumble sounds from his throat when Kitayama starts moving around to other parts of his thigh, the outer muscles and then inside, where he jumps and tenses again. Apparently he’d also strained that area without realizing it.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kitayama says in a rushed voice, and Fujigaya frowns as Kitayama’s touch returns to his hamstrings down closer to his knees.

“No, don’t stop,” Fujigaya finds himself saying, and he feels his face heat up a little at the needy way it comes out. “It hurts there, too. I didn’t know.”

Kitayama makes a noncommittal noise, but his hands return to Fujigaya’s inner thighs and Fujigaya has to fight to keep from spreading them. He is very aware that this is crossing over into a different kind of touch, one that he doesn’t mind at all.

“Adductors,” Kitayama mumbles, sounding like he’s trying to distract himself as well. “That’s what they’re called.”

Now it’s Fujigaya’s turn for a noncommittal noise, but it betrays him by turning into a moan as Kitayama’s thumbs dig into the sensitive muscles. He expects Kitayama to pull his hands away and leave, maybe lecture him on his inappropriate reactions, but he keeps going and Fujigaya buries his face into his pillow to muffle the noises he can’t control. It just feels so _good_ , Kitayama’s magic fingers touching him so close to where his boxers can’t do much to cover how it affects him. He wonders if Kitayama knows.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya can’t identify his tone. It sounds innocent, but his palms are flat on the backs of his thighs with his thumbs on the inside, applying enough pressure to be noticeable as he slowly pushes _up_.

“Everywhere,” Fujigaya breathes, relaxing even more at Kitayama’s devious laugh.

“Spoiled,” Kitayama mutters, and now Fujigaya’s laughing, at least until Kitayama’s hands slide up to his ass, groping him pointedly “Won’t this hurt you more?”

“Not if I don’t move,” Fujigaya challenges.

“I see,” is all Kitayama says, but then the bed shifts and his next words are much closer to Fujigaya’s ear. “What is it about you that just exudes sexual pheromones, entrapping everyone in their path?”

“Maybe you just want me,” Fujigaya replies simply.

A weight lands on his back, a brush of lips on the back of his neck making him arch as those hands gently push apart his thighs to make room for his own. He presses against Fujigaya completely and Fujigaya gasps at the feeling of Kitayama hard against him, the bulge in his pants settling neatly between the cheeks of his ass only separated by their clothes.

Fujigaya smirks. “I rest my case.”

“We can do it like this,” Kitayama says, his voice sinfully low as he moves back and forth for effect, “though I think your thigh muscles will continue to work even if you stay still.”

Fujigaya is inclined to agree with him, since there’s already a brief sting of pain from the arousal that has his thighs trembling in anticipation, but it’s overridden by Kitayama’s close presence. He wants to rock back against him, feel him harden even more and moan in his ear, but it will hurt more if he moves.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya whispers, and Kitayama presses a deep noise of acknowledgement into the top of his spine. “The longer you take, the more painful it will be.”

“Depends on your definition of pain,” Kitayama mumbles, and Fujigaya shudders at the implication. “Don’t be impatient.”

Fujigaya opens his mouth to respond, but then Kitayama’s hands are circling his waist and he chokes on his breath at the way those fingers flutter over his abs. They continue upwards, taking his shirt with them, and Taipi reaches back with his own hands to help pull it off. Then Kitayama’s grabbing both of his wrists, pushing them back up over his head and leaning over him enough to hiss into his ear, “I don’t want you to move _at all_.”

“Fuck,” Fujigaya says, the arousal seeming to come at him from every direction. “We should have borrowed some handcuffs from the drama set.”

“Next time,” Kitayama promises, kissing the shell of Fujigaya’s ear before mouthing his way back down between his shoulder blades. His touch lowers, too, returning to Fujigaya’s thighs where he rubs them innocently enough to calm the painful trembling.

_What makes you think there will be a next time?_ is on the tip of Fujigaya’s tongue, the words stolen by a sharp intake of air when Kitayama’s fingers continue upward past the hem of Fujigaya’s boxers. They briefly brush his balls and Fujigaya moans, trying his hardest not to move, not just because of Kitayama’s orders but also for his own comfort.

“Relax,” Kitayama says again, his lips dragging down Fujigaya’s back as he slides the boxers off. He’s careful not to aggravate Fujigaya’s thighs, which Fujigaya appreciates, except that Kitayama loses his own clothes in the process and Fujigaya’s entire body tenses up when he feels that hard cock between his cheeks with no barriers.

“Mitsu…” Fujigaya trails off, and it’s a whine that he can’t even be ashamed about right now as Kitayama’s hands roam his body. They’re still slick from the massage oil and it heightens the sensation, the muscles of Fujigaya’s back and chest yearning for attention as well.

“I like how you say my name like this,” Kitayama says, his lips returning to the back of Fujigaya’s neck as he grinds against him. “What do I have to do to hear it again?”

“Get inside me,” Fujigaya demands, all of his nerves protesting his immobility; if he wouldn’t regret it afterwards, he’d roll them over and give Kitayama no choice but to take him for a ride.

“Mm, I can do that.” Kitayama is practically purring and Fujigaya’s body is on fire, even more defiant from being restrained. He jumps involuntarily when Kitayama’s fingers swirl their way between his legs, everything inside him begging to spread his legs and push back, but just the thought has his thighs burning and he struggles to breathe evenly and calm down.

Thankfully Kitayama eases his way inside, gentler than Fujigaya expects. A few circles around the rim and a twist of one finger, which feels like it’s had more massage oil applied to it, and Fujigaya is grateful for that. Contrary to his reputation, he doesn’t do this often. Yet his body opens up like a wanton slut the minute Kitayama touches him inside, pulling desperate whimpers from his lungs, and Kitayama groans into his back so deeply that Fujigaya can feel it in his toes.

“Okay?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya makes what he hopes is an affirming noise. Then the first finger is joined by a second, the pair of them stretching as Kitayama moves them in and out, and now Fujigaya’s body doesn’t want to listen to his brain anymore, giving automatic jerks as Kitayama finds his prostate.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya whines again, his back arching like a cat.

“Just a little longer.”

Three fingers and Fujigaya feels so full, though it’s nothing compared to what he feels digging into his tailbone. Kitayama is so hard and Fujigaya wishes he could touch it, that he could watch Kitayama’s face as he does, maybe tease him a bit. Being unable to do anything just makes him want to do _everything_ , and if there is a next time, Fujigaya doesn’t think he’ll be the one wearing the handcuffs.

All at once the fingers disappear and Fujigaya braces himself, using all of his willpower to keep still as Kitayama flattens him to the mattress and slowly rocks into him. It’s so much pressure and Fujigaya clamps his teeth down on his pillow to release some of it, focusing on Kitayama’s soft noises as he buries himself all the way.

“Taisuke,” he groans, looping his arms around Fujigaya’s shoulders and kissing all over his shoulder blades. “You feel so good.”

“Move.” Fujigaya spits out the words along with his pillow. “Please move, because I can’t.”

He expects Kitayama to argue, maybe tease him some more, but all he does is pull back enough to push back in. His thighs bump Fujigaya’s and it stings, though not nearly enough to stop, and he forgets all about it as Kitayama keeps filling him over and over again. Tiny grunts press into his spine and they are just as arousing as what they’re doing, quick, hot breaths leaving his skin tingling.

“Faster,” he hisses. “My thighs are sore, not my ass.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Kitayama replies, and Fujigaya’s scoff is interrupted by a moan as Kitayama speeds up considerably. “Give me time.”

“And they say I’m cocky,” Fujigaya mumbles, but Kitayama’s fucking him too hard for his words to have any malice. His whole body shudders as Kitayama goes deeper, clinging to him even tighter and groaning louder, and Fujigaya doesn’t realize he’s rubbing himself against the blanket until Kitayama pins his hips down.

“Don’t,” Kitayama orders, and his tone has Fujigaya whimpering more than his words. “It’ll hurt you. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

It’s such a sweet thing to say that Fujigaya’s heart feels warm even though he’s not sure what it means. Combined with the pressure of Kitayama’s sharp, deep thrusting, Fujigaya is so overcome by sensations that he feels like he could come from this alone. Each time Kitayama hits his prostate he gets closer, nails clawing the silk sheets behind his pillow where the blanket isn’t covering them.

Then Kitayama’s hands slide back around his shoulders and down his arms, reaching as far as he can while gasping into Fujigaya’s neck, unintelligible words aside from Fujigaya’s first name. Those fingers dig into his forearms and Kitayama’s movements become more erratic, pounding Fujigaya into the mattress until he lets out a low moan that resounds in Fujigaya’s ears, abruptly falling still as Fujigaya feels him come inside him.

“Sorry, I probably should have pulled out,” Kitayama mutters, and it’s so sincere that Fujigaya just shakes his head, heavy from being unable to move. “Turn over.”

Fujigaya’s so aroused that he’s shaking as he complies, noticing the dark spot of precome on the blanket where he’d been laying. It takes him a second to focus, but Kitayama’s hair is plastered to his face and his cheeks are bright red, his lips glistening and Fujigaya has a sudden urge to kiss him. Just pull him down and claim his mouth, releasing this tension between them more than what they just did. But the minute Fujigaya settles onto his back, Kitayama disappears from his view and he doesn’t know what’s going on until he feels hot breath on his cock, followed by a tongue.

“ _Mitsu_ ,” Fujigaya gasps, automatically reaching down to push the damp hair out of Kitayama’s eyes, and that must have been the right thing to do because now Kitayama’s lips are around him, sucking on the head of his cock. “I’m not going to last very long at all, fuck.”

Kitayama’s response for that is to take more of Fujigaya’s length into his mouth, tonguing along the underside and swallowing around the head. His hands are resting on Fujigaya’s hips but not halting him from moving, dropping down to hold onto his thighs as Fujigaya pushes up in contrast to Kitayama’s suction.

Suddenly everything he’s been holding back until right now hits him full force, and he barely groans out a warning before he’s coming. One hand twists in Kitayama’s hair and the other clenches the blanket next to him, his body rocking like a wave. He doesn’t feel Kitayama pull away and opens his eyes in time to watch him swallow, his orgasm heightened by the gesture.

“What does it taste like?” Fujigaya asks curiously, still catching his breath.

Kitayama shrugs. “Nothing, really.”

Those lips look even more enticing now that they’ve been stretched around his cock, and Fujigaya uses his grip on Kitayama’s hair to pull him closer. “I want to find out.”

It’s Kitayama who kisses him first, lips barely making contact before his tongue is sweeping inside, and Fujigaya feels like his mind is in a whirlwind of sensations. He tastes himself and immediately wonders what Kitayama would taste like, which leads to thoughts of finding _that_ out, and then he’s kissing back just as aggressively as he brings his arms down to wrap around Kitayama.

Gradually Kitayama becomes less responsive, and Fujigaya laughs into their kiss as he realizes what is happening. “Are you falling asleep?”

“A little,” Kitayama mumbles. “I had to do all the work. Next time don’t be so careless with your workouts so you can pull your weight.”

There was that phrase again. ‘Next time’. Something flutters in Fujigaya’s chest, but he ignores it. “Yes, sir,” is all he says, wincing as he tries to stretch out his legs.

Kitayama looks ready to pass out any second, but he rolls over enough to grab some tissues from the nightstand and clean them both up while Fujigaya pulls out the blanket from under them and shoves it to the floor. Then Fujigaya is pulled onto his side facing the other man and once again those hands are on his angry thighs, reaching around from the front this time, and it feels even better than before.

“Let’s take a nap,” Kitayama suggests, his eyes already closed.

“You sure you want to sleep in my silk slut sheets?” Fujigaya teases.

Abandoning his thighs, Kitayama pulls Fujigaya into an embrace that says more than his words ever could. “I’ll manage.”

Kitayama falls asleep halfway through their next kiss, but that’s okay because Fujigaya knows it won’t be their last.


End file.
